


Interlude #1: Vanitas

by OneAgentofChaos (BeringsBulldog)



Series: Ars Moriendi [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Warehouse 13
Genre: Angel and Helena are bros and family, Ars Moriendi Series, Bering and Wells, Multi, One Shot, you should read my fic Memento Mori in order to understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeringsBulldog/pseuds/OneAgentofChaos
Summary: Helena's fears and apprehension over Mating with Myka manifest themselves courtesy of her demon H.G. in the form of a vivid nightmare. Helena reacts the way she generally does in a situation she has tremendous anxiety involving a loved one: she lets emotions cloud her judgement to the point of irrationality. Angel, who knows her better than anyone except perhaps Myka, is there to pick up the pieces and bring her back to rationality.
Relationships: Angel (BtVS) & Helena "H.G." Wells, Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Series: Ars Moriendi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/720780
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Interlude #1: Vanitas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> A few things:
> 
> -This takes place two days after Helena left Sunnydale at the end of Memento Mori.  
> -If you haven't read Memento Mori, you will probably be lost  
> -This is exactly what the title says: an interlude. It's taking place between the end of Memento Mori and the beginning of my next big story in the Ars Moriendi series. I felt it was important to show Helena's state of mind and how she is coping (and eventually copes) with the idea of Mating Myka and all of her anxiety that comes with it.  
> -Mating really isn't discussed (to my knowledge) in the Buffyverse, but since so many Buffy fics have it, I thought, why not? I always thought it sounded like a really interesting idea to explore. Plus Myka and Helena are soulmates anyways, so it wasn't hard for me to go there.  
> -There will be another Interlude which has been written but needs editing. I'm hoping it won't be too long before I get to posting that but we'll see how things go.  
> -I invented Angel and Helena's friendship for Memento Mori and it turns out, I love them as bros. So, I want to use them together as much as possible. I've even had vague ideas of stories of just Helena and Angel working on a case in Los Angeles as part of Angel Inc pre Helena going to Sunnydale the first time. Don't know if that will ever occur but it's in my head. I love this universe so much.  
> -kudos to you if you understand my references at the end to Lorne, the song 'Mandy', and Angel's nickname.  
> -Full disclosure: I've only seen the first season of 'Angel'. So picture his apartment.  
> nightmare is in italics and is separated by ~~~

_I do my best to resist, but I realize it's impossible._

_I reach out and softly trace the contours of her back, the skin soft but the muscles ripple underneath._

_Her hum of contentment mixed with a trace of desire echoes my own feelings._

_I smile and scoot closer to her._

_“Hello, my darling,” I say, as I gently sweep her chestnut curls away from her neck. H.G. flashes when I see the mating mark on her neck._

_I have never felt so content; not since Christina. I didn’t think it was possible and yet here I am._

_I wrap my arm around her torso and tug her close to me. As I do so, I notice the temperature of her body is lower than normal._

_“Are you cold, my love?”_

_She places her hand on my arm and softly caresses my skin as I kiss her neck. She sounds puzzled when she asks, ”Why would I be cold, Sire?”_

_I stiffen at the response, but before I can fully comprehend what has happened, she turns in my arms._

_It is only then I have the horrific realization all of my fears have come true as instead of my love, I am met with the face of a demon._

~~~~~

“Nooo!”

I hear myself scream and find myself wrapped, no twisted, in my bedsheets, sweating. 

While I am aware on some level I’m back in my bed at Angel’s, I am disoriented. I struggle to free myself of this cocoon that came about as a result of a nightmare.

There’s a loud knock on my closed door, and a worried masculine voice calls, “Helena! Are you all right?” 

At last free of the blankets, I suddenly realize I must have taken too long to answer because Angel announces, ”I’m coming in, Helena. You can beat me up for it later if you want.”

He barges through the door, and rushes over to my side. I look away, not wanting to let him see my anguish, but he can tell; he can always tell as he’s known me for so long.

Bastard

I feel his strong arms wrap around me. 

The vivid nightmare is slowly fading but the contents were such that I allow myself to be held close. 

After a few moments, Angel asks, “What happened?”

I pull back and run a hand through my hair, doing my best to push my locks from my face so I can see properly. My hair is so disheveled I must look I am the wildman of borneo.

I at last settle for what I perceive to be a half truth. “I had…a dream.”

“A dream?”

I can hear the skepticism; I don’t need to see his expression to know Angel will call me out on what this really is: a blatant lie, whether I wish to acknowledge this truth or not. “Yes, it was…nothing.” I roughly shove him away, stand, and head into the kitchen, the sound of his feet following me every step of the way.

As I grab a mug from the dish rack, Angel notes, “That didn’t sound like ‘nothing’.”

Not bothering to answer Angel, I throw open the fridge. Upon swiping several packets of blood, I carelessly toss them onto the counter. 

I’m unable to stop H.G (and maybe I don’t want to at this point) from coming out; the nightmare is proof her presence has happily made itself known, just to have her usual fun in tormenting me.

My fangs greedily lick the droplets of blood escaping the packet and then I fill the cup. The blood was cold but still welcome.

I take my mood and hunger out on the door to the microwave, nearly destroying it in the process. I can hear Angel’s grunt of displeasure behind me, but I ignore it. He’s silent as I drum my fingers against the counter, impatiently waiting for the blood to heat up in the microwave, and I have yet to respond to Angel’s observation (or what I see at this moment as an accusation). 

The microwave beeps, and abruptly I aggressively swing open the door, proceeding to gulp the blood once the mug is in hand. I’m only dimly aware of the ambrosia as it slides down my throat in an effort to warm and soothe my insides. The urge had been so great, it was nearly the same effect as perhaps a shot of tequila (no lime or salt involved however), but I hear myself groan in pleasure as if it were the same.

I reach over for a second packet, and tear it open, pouring out its contents into the same mug. As I heat up my blood, I realize once again at the sorry state of the microwave door, I apparently exerted a little too much force upon using it. 

“Helena, don’t break the microwave please. We just bought that thing a month ago.”

I feel a vague twinge of guilt; it was I who had broken the previous one which causes me to absently wonders if I will do so again. The microwave dings and after violently opening the door, I seize my mug of blood, and upon draining it, I find it difficult to care.

Angel comes over to inspect the damaged door and sighs. “Another trip to Target tonight. Just what I wanted to do.”

I can still feel the desire for more, and eye the remaining packet on the counter. Just as I try to step around Angel who is blocking my path, he fully turns, his whole body steadfast in its effort to not let me through. 

Angel yells in my face, “Helena! Just stop!” 

H.G. is still out and growls at him, causing Angelus to surface. “Get out of my way, Angelus,” I demand.

“No. You’re not the only vampire in this house.”

“There are plenty of packets in there, you arse.”

Angel holds his ground and the urge to resist to grab his shirt and toss him out of my way is strong.

“You’re the one acting like an ass. Instead of eating us out of house and home, go a few rounds with the bag and cool off.” 

There is an awareness Angel’s suggestion has merit.

A need beyond blood exists and could quell the storm inside. 

H.G. is so far out, and I am so distraught, destroying a boxing bag is a viable alternative, especially as an urge far more destructive may rise. Angel and I have both been susceptible to destroying the entire apartment when our demons make an appearance.

But my own mind, my own being, the humanity of ‘Helena’ is detached. While the nightmare was most certainly H.G.’s doing in order to prey upon my fears, I, Helena, had chosen to hand H.G., a demon who relishes in antagonizing Angelus, the reins. As is usual with me, I am unable to cope with any anxiety, any sense of foreboding, especially as it is in relation to those near and dear to my heart, namely Myka and Christina. 

Triggers abound, and this classifies as a big one.

And how do I react?

Emotional; violent and fearful as always. For a scientist, I supremely lack any sense of detachment from seeking to solve personal problems from an objective point of view.

In continuing with my pattern, my ego finds his tone to be condescending.

It sounds like an order, of which he has no right to give. That part of me never doubting my own genius takes great offense from an order issued by whom I perceive as a being of inferior intelligence. 

H.G. isn’t helping either. /Who is he to give us orders? He’s not our fucking Sire./

“Sod off, Angelus, I can do what I want.”

Angel’s body tenses even more, his hands fisting, his eyes closing briefly. He is wrestling with his demon, and H.G. wants to egg him on; she wants a fight. She wants to make him bruised and bleeding.

But then Angel’s body relaxes, his fist unclench, and his game face morphs to his human side, causing H.G. to howl in rage at wanting Angelus to return. It is not Angel she wishes to fight; it is Angelus. Their love/hate relationship, love/hate friendship as combative as ever.

It is Angel’s quiet plea, this return to Helena’s best friend, a brother more than anything, which causes me to finally have the strength to shove a loud, curse laden H.G. down deep inside. 

Now that I no longer hear or feel the war for control over my body, my mind, my very Being, I am overcome with such a feeling of desolation that I fall back against the fridge, and slowly slide down.

“I’m…I just…”

I drop my head, squeeze my eyes shut. Angel is initially silent, and I know he’s trying to decide how to handle the situation without another episode of H.G. making an appearance.

He needn’t worry though; I am in control. She shall not return, despite my misery.

I hear him drop to his knees and after a moment, he surrounds me in his embrace.

Hot angry tears fall no matter how much I try to stop them and I fist my hand in his shirt. His hands stroke my back, soothing me. I close my eyes, giving into the comfort offered by the one who has often felt like the only family I had left.

“I am here for you, Helena, no matter what happens in the future...wherever you go. You can tell me as much or as little as you want.”

I can tell he is choosing his words carefully, and my mind drifts, even through my woe.

Angel is perfectly well aware of my hatred at appearing weak; laying myself bare like this. Feeling vulnerable is something others can hold over me if they bear witness to any break in my composure. 

Angel and Myka are the only ones I will allow to see like this. The only one ever to come close was my dear Wooly but there was a depth of emotions I refused to show, to express, to acknowledge in his presence which I know hurt him deeply. 

Maybe it was from my time as a vampire, maybe it was my pain, my regret over my choices which led to the abhorrent actions committed by this vampire, that caused me to gain better perspective on my relationship with Wooly.

I knew the depth of his feelings for me, the wish for more than just friendship, and I am certain I took advantage of this care. My journal, written at Angel’s suggestion, played a large part in coping with this guilt. It will never truly be gone, but I can now gain a feeling of some sort of closure.

As I open my eyes, slowly releasing the embrace, I remember this journal I lent Myka. While she may not understand everything per se, she could see as Angel had said, who and what had shaped that Helena in the past and what Helena is today, because of those choices and the choices I have made since regaining my soul.

Angel and I settle side by side on the floor against the wall, and while I want to confide, I refuse to look at him as I do so. In the back of my mind, I fear seeing judgement in his eyes. I find to perhaps no surprise the fear of Angel’s disappointment annoying. 

We really are like siblings some days.

At last I admit, “It was about Myka.”

Angel doesn’t respond to which I’m grateful and it actually gives me the ability to continue.

“We...were together and had just mated. I was holding her from behind and found it strange she felt so cold. I asked her about it, and when she answered, she was genuinely puzzled why I would ask such a thing. She turned her head to look at me and...and...” I shut my eyes, the nightmare not as present but still fresh enough the scene plays in my mind, remembering the terror.

Suddenly, I’m aware of Angel’s hand grasping mine, and giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Well, I’m sure you can imagine the end result.”

Angel says nothing for a moment. “Mating is an intense experience, no matter who it’s with. Angelus never really wanted it, even with his Childer. It wasn’t until Buffy…well, that was me, not Angelus. Unfortunately, separating myself and my needs as a vampire are...complicated.”

“That is an understatement, Angel,” I retort.

Angel ignores me and continues. “Angelus very much wanted to Turn Buffy. I knew I wanted to Mate with her and I knew Buffy wanted it as well. But…I couldn’t shake the nightmares. They came practically every night. Anyways the same: I would lose control during the Mating and Turn her.

“I never knew for sure if it was my fears or Angelus getting into my head when I slept. I don’t know. I still don’t know but I have a suspicion it’s a bit of both. Even though Angelus wanted to Turn her, I never truly felt he wanted to Mate with her.”

His implication is clear: what do I perceive H.G.’s feelings on the matter to be and do I fear my ability to control her, to stop her in time from Turning Myka. 

Taking a moment before answering, I finally find the strength to confess,“HG wants to Mate with Myka but she wants to Mate with her and Turn her while doing it.”

I sense him nodding, and expect this information does nothing more than confirm Angel’s suspicions.

“And what are Myka’s views, Helena?” He questions.

I swallow nervously. As usual, I’m making presumptions, generally guided by her own arrogance and unacknowledged fears whether I wish to admit it or not.

“Myka is still...deciding...if she would like to pursue some sort of relationship with me,” I admit. I don’t need to see the bastard to know he’s rolling his eyes right now.

I turn to him, and upon seeing a small smirk I ask defensively, “What?'

Angel releases my hand and gives a slight shake of his head. “I understand your fears. I really do. But I think you need to consider Myka here. I think you are underestimating her.”

“I would never underestimate Myka. In any capacity,” I declare, offended. “She is, in every way, my equal, and she is a better human being than I ever was.” 

Angel scoffs “Helena. This is different, and you know it. Myka is strong; physically, intellectually, emotionally. From what I know and from what I have seen, if you discuss what Mating entails, Myka will be able to decide for herself if she wishes to go through with it. She will go into it with her eyes wide open.” He studies me. “She will stop you if you cannot stop yourself,” he adds quietly. 

That is truly my fear, is it not? That I find my own self unable to stop? I can’t help but recall the night I was poisoned by Faith’s darts and Myka fed off me. She almost died that night...

Angel can read me in ways Myka cannot and he knows what I’m thinking of right now. 

“Helena, that was something entirely different. You weren’t in your right mind. Myka knew the risks but she was the one who decided to let it go to that point.”

I rise to my feet quickly, and practically yell in my frustration. ”But that is exactly my point, is it not?! I did kill her! She was dead for five minutes until she was revived in the hospital.” I stare at Angel. “What if that happens again, Angel? I will be responsible for her death, whether she is Turned or not.”

Angel stands and runs his hand over his face. I can see his frustration with me. 

“How about this. Can you just consider waiting to freak out until you actually speak to Myka about it? Just please...take one step at a time.” He half smiles. “I know how much you love to solve everything and I know how much...patience you lack.” I glare at him. “But just take a breath.” I guffaw at his choice of phrase to which he adds, smiling, “Metaphorically, obviously. Mating is a two way street and for it to work, you must be in sync with the other person.”

He slides his arm around me.“Come on. Let’s go get some fresh air. I believe it’s dark enough.”

I relax somewhat. It would actually be nice to get some air. Perhaps a drink...

I'm about to say as much when I see the mischievous grin on his face. A suspicion forms in my mind. That arse...that bloody, fucking arse.

“Oh no, Angel. Definitely not!" I’ve known the bastard too long and I can tell exactly where we’re going. “No, no, no, no. You are not seriously taking me to Caritas, are you?! I have no wish to sing for some half arse demon to read my emotions or whatever the bloody hell he does.”

“Take a shower and get dressed.” Angel simply ignores my outburst and walks away towards his room. “We’re leaving in twenty.”

I glare but turn to go towards the shower nonetheless. I do however find I cannot hold back a non negotiable demand in one last fit of pique.

“If you insist on going, you are getting up and singing ‘Mandy’...Angelcakes!


End file.
